STRIKE FOR THE TYCOON

The lights were bright, but I didn’t mind them anymore. I had been walking runways for years, and this was the biggest one of my career. The crowd was full, the cameras were flashing, and my name was being whispered again and again like it meant something. Azia Blaise Velez. The country’s top supermodel. I still wasn’t used to hearing it that way. I smiled as I reached the end of the stage, striking the last pose. My manager said this show would change everything, and maybe she was right. The applause was loud, and for a second, I forgot all the times I was turned down. Every sleepless night, every harsh comment about my body or my face, every time someone said I wasn’t the type who could make it big. It all felt worth it. When the show ended, people congratulated me. Some hugged me. Photographers asked for one more photo before I left. I tried to keep my smile steady even though I was tired. I wanted to go home, eat something normal, and sleep. Fame was beautiful, but it could also be exhausting. Backstage, my manager, Kara, gave me a wide grin. “You killed it, Azia. Everyone’s talking about you. You’re going to be booked for months.” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I hope so.” “Not hope,” she said. “It’s already happening.” She was right. I was finally where I wanted to be. I had worked hard for it, and I thought nothing could ruin it now. When I got home that night, I scrolled through my social media. My name was trending again, but this time it was for something good. My latest campaign had just hit a million likes. I should have been happy, but I felt strangely restless. My boyfriend, Jax, hadn’t texted all day. When his message came, it was short. Jax: Come over. I missed you. I bit my lip before replying. Me: You know I can’t stay long. But I missed you, too. Just a few minutes, he answered. Jax: Can you come over? Jax wasn’t part of my public life. He was something I kept hidden. He’s a rising actor. Our relationship was quiet because my agency said a romance would “ruin my image.” His manager also stated that it’s better to keep it this way since he’s gaining popularity now. We agreed to keep it private. No photos, no posts, no hints. I wore a hoodie and cap before leaving my house. When I got there, he was waiting outside the gate. He smiled when he saw me, arms open. “Babe…” he said softly. I hugged him, quick and careful. “You shouldn’t be outside. Someone might see you.” “It’s late. No one cares,” he said, laughing as if it didn’t matter. For a second, I believed him. The street was quiet. Only the faint sound of traffic in the distance. He smelled faintly of alcohol but still looked the same. We went inside. He told me about a new project he got and apologized that he wasn’t able to come to my runway since he’s shooting for a movie. I told him about the show and how the audience loved it. “I’m so proud of you,” he said and hugged me. I smiled. But something was off. He looked distracted, restless. His phone kept buzzing, and when I asked who it was, he said it was no one. I didn’t push it. I told him I had an early call time the next day and had to leave. He hugged me before I went out. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. I nodded and left, pulling my cap lower as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I should have known something was wrong. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating nonstop. Kara’s voice was the first I heard. “Azia, are you seeing this?” “Seeing what?” I mumbled, still half-asleep. “Go online. Now.” I opened my phone. At first, I thought it was about the show. I even smiled. But when I opened the first message, the blood drained from my face. The headlines hit me like a slap. BREAKING: Actor Jax Rivero caught with illegal drugs. Supermodel Azia Blaise Velez spotted leaving his building hours before arrest. My face was in the photo. The same one taken last night. I stared at it for a long time. I didn’t even realize I was shaking until my phone slipped from my hand. My phone rang again. It was Kara so I answered it immediately. “What did you do, Azia? Tell me this isn’t true.” “I didn’t do anything,” I said quickly. “I swear, I didn’t even know—” “Then why are you in the pictures?” I couldn’t answer. My chest hurt. By noon, every network was talking about it. The comments were brutal. People said I was pretending to be clean while doing the same things as him. Others said they always knew I was fake. I tried to post a statement denying it, but no one cared. The damage was done. Brands started to withdraw their contracts. Magazines deleted my features. Fans unfollowed me. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t even breathe. For days, I stayed in my apartment. I didn’t want to go out. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I kept thinking, How did everything fall apart so quickly? I couldn’t even check my phone anymore. I turned it off and sat by the window, staring at the people below who didn’t know me and yet thought they did. When my mother arrived, I felt a small relief. Maybe she’d finally ask how I was doing. But she didn’t. “You have to fix this, Azia,” she said. “You’re destroying your name.” “Mom, I didn’t do anything.” “Public opinion doesn’t care about truth. They care about stories.” Her voice was calm, like she was discussing business. That was how she always was. A well-known socialite who valued reputation above everything. “I’ll find a way to fix this,” I said, even though I had no idea how. “You don’t have to. I already did.” She placed a folder on the table. “A marriage arrangement. Royce Yvan Adler. He’s the heir to Adler Group. His family has their own issues. This will help both sides.” I stared at her. “A marriage? Are you serious?” She didn’t answer. She just looked at me, waiting. “You want me to marry someone I don’t even know?” Her expression didn’t change. “You do know him. He rejected you once, didn’t he?” I remembered instantly. Royce Adler—the man who looked at my face during an audition for a skincare campaign and said, “She looks too mature for what we want.” I walked out that day humiliated, telling myself I’d never forget his name. And now, my mother wanted me to marry him. I laughed bitterly. “No. Absolutely not.” But she only sighed, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “You don’t have the luxury to refuse, Azia. Your reputation is in pieces. You need this marriage.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. But part of me knew she wasn’t. The news hadn’t stopped. Every day, more articles came out. People kept talking. My name was becoming a joke.